


i walked into love with you

by TinyGayTurtle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Background Het, Background Relationships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Healing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, just mentioned though, oh god im so bad at tags lets do this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyGayTurtle/pseuds/TinyGayTurtle
Summary: The Order doesn't believe in unfair persecution, which some will receive after the end of the second wizarding war. Until Hermione Granger steps up and gives an... alternative.[Alt] Hermione is assigned to hide and care for Narcissa Malfoy after the war.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 100





	1. I’ll show you to your room

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first taste of my recent project. Please enjoy chapter one of "i walked into love with you" <3
> 
> -Turtle

Quiet rubble sat where a grand school once stood. Halls that had once bustled with life now had seen too much death. 

Smoke and silence engulfed those who went too close to the rubble until they felt suffocated under the blanket of guilt that threatened to strangle those who survived where many did not. If the light side hadn’t been so squeamish about the killing curse hundreds could have been spared, on both sides. Their victory was a slim one, accomplished by pure luck and youthful naivety wielded by those far beyond their years.

Almost white blonde hair whipped in the whistling wind and a pitch black robe was brought tighter around a pale, slim figure. No amount of wind could take away her wrong doings. Even if the Potter boy testified on her behalf, the witch that stood a hundred feet away from the stone remains would be lucky to stay out of Azkaban. At a certain point she wasn’t sure if she actually wanted to be thrown in a cell. Maybe the cold stone would remind her of Bella. 

At the thought of her deceased sister a shiver ran up her spine. Warm tears trickled down her pale face. When had she let her mask of ice crack and shatter against the rolling hills of her childhood? The moment her knees gave out the pain of fragile shins crashing into the burnt ground was welcomed. More tears fell. More memories of screaming and raven curls and grins in the halls of Hogwarts filled her ears to the brim. She almost didn’t hear another person approach. Regardless, she didn’t react. It’s not like she had a wand to defend herself anyway, no her son had her elm wand with custom studs. What did it matter if the witch were to be struck down now? After all she had lost, what did she have left?

“Madam Malfoy.”

_ No. Anyone but her.  _

“You- er- we need to leave, Madam Malfoy. It’s not safe for you here.” A pause. “Not anymore.” 

Warm, filthy, hands came into Narcissa’s peripheral accompanied by a face she had last seen on the floor of her own manor. Now it was slightly dirtier, slightly older, not in age but in experience. Eyes, Circe her eyes, looked so tired. So so tired. A child forced into war, a weapon forged from the first step taken into Hogwarts and used until the last step out. 

“Please, let me help you,” Hermione Granger pleaded with the older witch and who was she to say no? Merlin, how the mighty fall. A Malfoy, a Black by blood, accepting help from a filthy little mudblood. 

She ignored Granger’s hand and stood up to her full height, staring down her nose just as she was taught. Questions raced through her head but none seemed important enough to ask. Perhaps she was still too proud to admit she didn’t have all the answers. 

Damned Black blood. Damned Slytherin pride. 

“Why are you helping me?” The pathetic croak left Narcissa’s throat almost like it wanted to crawl back down with her pride but she didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed in front of a mudblood. Not even a war hero mudblood. 

Granger just shook her head and mumbled something about _ bloody purebloods _ before taking her arm in a firm but gentle hand in preparation for side along. She drew a wand that was not Narcissa’s sister’s. Questions, again, formed at the tip of her tongue but none except the most important were asked. 

“Where are you taking me?” She had finally found her voice, albeit less haughty than normal. 

“To your last hope, Madam Malfoy.” 

That made her stomach flip in the most uncomfortable way. She almost made to pull away, get away. Why would she trust this child, this mudblood child? This mudblood child who had a bloody wand while Narcissa was left defenceless! 

“Narcissa,” Granger started, somehow sensing her discomfort and turning to face her. “Trust nothing if not my honesty.”

Narcissa let her eyes look into Granger’s brown ones. Bright, tired, young. She saw nothing but worry, maybe even pity. Salazar, a mudblood pitying a pureblood. A pureblood Black for Merlin’s sake. The world really must have ended. Figures it ended right where her life had begun all those years ago. 

With a nod she tugged the mudblood closer and prayed to any god who would listen that she could trust the young woman, whom she was hesitant to even touch, with her life. 

A familiar tug and push was felt around her but it wasn’t unpleasant. Not remotely. Even the cruel sounds of apparition she was used to could not be heard. The only thing that met her ears were the groans of a witch who was taking the brunt of an apparation. Advanced magic. Stupid magic. 

_ Stupid mudblood.  _

Their feet met the solid green ground near a small house near rushing water. Well, house was a generous name. It looked like her elves’ quarters. Yet smaller. The water couldn’t be seen but the sound of it rushing past what was probably smooth rocks and soft ground filled Narcissa with a bit of hope and a bit of fear. No one would find her here.  _ No one would find her here.  _

“Merlin, that was… more than I thought it would be,” Granger gritted out from behind clenched teeth. 

Narcissa jerked away from Granger as the mudblood began to double over into the grass. If there was one thing she did not miss from her childhood, it was holding back a thick mane of hair while a stubborn child retched. Regardless, she reached forward, more on instinct than anything else, and went to bunch up Granger’s hair. 

“Don’t,” The girl said while holding up a weak arm. Typical Gryffindors, too damn proud to accept help. Narcissa bat away the offending arm and built up a familiar expression of distaste. 

“Miss Granger,” She began as she gathered the soft yet wild and slightly tangled curls in her hands, “I do not usually ask my lessers nicely, however, I’m willing to make an exception just this once. Please.” 

Narcissa wrote off her uncharacteristic plea as a survival tactic that she didn’t have to dig far for a source of. Placate and pretend and lull those who are a possible threat into a sense of false security until the time to strike is perfect. Granger was vulnerable but not entirely dense, if Narcissa wanted her tactics to land right she had to play the waiting game. While Granger seemed to not want help she also seemed to figure that there wasn’t going to be another time in which she was asked nicely, well, more or less. So they both complied, more so out of shock than anything else. 

When the younger girl was done she shot back up and turned to Narcissa, who was still kneeling on the ground, giving the blonde witch a small smirk. 

“Who’s beneath who now, Madam Malfoy?” Granger’s smirk morphed into a kind little smile, so honest and just so different from a dissatisfied grimace or callous smirk. Stupid girl. Showing her emotions like it was nothing. 

Surprising herself, Narcissa almost grinned back. Almost. She knew better, though. If there was one thing that had saved more lives than not, it was a mask. A shield past which no one could see. Armour that never failed in a battle of wits, or otherwise. Instead, she threw up a passive look of general distaste. 

“You don’t talk very much, do you?” Granger asked with a small tilt of her head. 

“I find that, typically, not talking leads to more answers than talking too much,” Was Narcissa’s only response as she drew herself back up to her full height. The woman towered over the other witch. And, because she couldn’t resist, Narcissa said in a haughty tone, “Who, Miss Granger, is beneath who now?” 

The shorter witch let out a shocking bark of a laugh and shook her head as she began to walk towards the shack. The sound caused Narcissa to jump. A honest and bold and  _ powerful  _ laugh caused the woman, the dangerous woman, to jump. 

While the shack was nothing special, Narcissa took in her surroundings and quite nearly could have almost gasped. It was gorgeous. Light seeped through the trees in lazy patches. Warmth dripped into Narcissa’s bones as she followed the mudblood without realizing. Green leaves glittered in the most beautiful way, flickering and winking at the pair. Grass more gentle than the sun but just as bright gently swayed in a gentle breeze. The witch just stopped and inhaled the calm, clean, easy air. Wind kissed her cheeks in a soft way, a mother’s caress compared to the harsh winds back in Scotland. She knew she looked ridiculous standing stagnant in the clearing but after being cooped up in the manor for the better part of the year… we’ll just say the fresh air seemed that much fresher. 

“Madam Malfoy?” Granger asked, her voice seemed to be a whisper that floated through an invisible bubble to reach Narcissa, leaning against the frame of the door of the shack. A ghost of a smile gracing her lips, though she seemed to try to bite it back for the blonde woman’s sake. 

Narcissa jerked back to reality only to realize she had been smiling. 

“I’ll show you to your room.” 

~~~

Hermione watched from her parents’ little kitchen as Narcissa Malfoy sat ramrod straight on the old family sofa. Her regal way of moving her mug up then down was damn near hilarious. The way her long pinkies kept jutting out to avoid making noise only to lose balance and send some tea flying. The third time it happened Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. 

“If I knew you would spend your time laughing at me I would not have come with you,” Madam Malfoy said in her typical haughty tone. Or, what Hermione had come to see as her typical tone. Really, what did she know? All of two or three encounters wasn’t truly enough to get an idea of a person. Who knew, maybe she was a hoot at parties. At Hermione’s second chuckle Malfoy let out a huff of annoyance. 

_ Damn purebloods.  _ “Not like you had much of a choice,” The brunette grumbled. 

Hermione just walked towards her and took a bar stool from the mini table into the sitting room. It was time to give Madam Malfoy the run down of the situation. 

“Madam Malfoy, I think we need to discuss why you’re here,” Hermione began but stopped. Icy eyes rested on the poor girl and froze her to the spot. That is until she stubbed her toe and had to scramble to sit down in the chair. 

Malfoy let out a little cough that sounded very much like a hidden laugh, though her eyes were as sharp and deadly as ever. 

“As I was saying, you’re here because I think I know how I can help you.” When the blonde said nothing, Hermione continued. “Because of what went on during the war you, and your family, would be facing jail- er- Azkaban time. Plain and simple but I have been appointed by the Order to watch over you and your well being specifically, until further notice. You’ll be staying here for as long as need be. You may, obviously, leave at any point in time. However, I do advise you wait until you get the all clear from me or another trusted person sometime in the future to ensure you are not wrongfully or harshly convicted of anything while emotions of the wizarding world are running high.” 

Crisp eyes glared at Hermione but harsh words never met her ears. Madam Malfoy was disconcertingly quiet. Alert yet tired eyes never leaving Hermione. The witch’s studious gaze held for much too long for comfort before she leaned forward and placed her tea mug down on the low sitting table in front of her. Long legs pushed the blonde woman up and Hermione could only follow with her eyes as the Malfoy matriarch walked to what was to be her room for the time being without sparing another word. 

_ Bloody purebloods.  _ Hermione thought as she started to clean up their tea and cups. “If I were to make dinner would you eat some, Madam Malfoy?” She shouted in the general direction of the one bedroom door. 

No response came but Hermione began to make a quick boxed pasta dinner. It wasn’t her favorite but when you’re on the run and used to relatively roughing it, you learn how to turn any meal alright with the right seasoning. 

As she cooked Hermione pondered the weight of what she had volunteered for. It was her idea. after all, to help the families of Voldemort’s followers. It wasn’t their fault they were born into a family who had prejudices fed to them at birth. Just like Hermione should not have been prosecuted for who her parents were, neither should those who were born with blood supremacist rhetoric drilled into their brains from birth. Two sides, same coin and what-not. 

“Miss Granger, what in Morgana’s name are you making?” Madam Malfoy asked with a sneer that she seemed to wear every bloody time she looked at the younger witch. Ever since Madam Malkin’s. 

“Boxed pasta,” Hermione began with what she hoped was a comforting smile to hide the discomfort at being totally oblivious to Narcissa’s approach. “Don’t worry, it’s not nearly as gross as it sounds once I’m done with it.” 

Narcissa just looked at her. Piercing blue eyes that reminded her of Dumbledore’s. Ones that seemed to peer right through your eyes and down to what made you a person. What did the woman see that kept her gaze so long? 

“Wha-"

“I think your pasta is burning, Miss Granger.”

In Hermione’s scramble to salvage dinner she missed Narcissa watching every move she made. Though the woman was tired beyond exhaustion she still had almost cat like alert eyes. They took in the nervous and sporadic movements of the younger witch. It was hard to believe that this woman had helped take down the most dangerous man on that side of the globe. Hermione Granger was a dangerous witch and Narcissa Malfoy would do her best to remember that. 

~~~

Silence blanketed the table the pair ate at. Narcissa stared at her plate while Hermione ate as quietly as possible. Eventually the silence seemed to be a tad unbearable for the brunette. 

Hermione opened her mouth to say something before being cut off almost immediately. 

“What do you want from me, Miss Granger.” Light hair covered light eyes but one could still see a single tear drip down a usually proud nose and onto the light wood of the table. 

Hermione wore a sad yet effortless smile at the broken tone the witch sitting across from her took. “Growth, Madam Malfoy.” 

Narcissa stood up on barely shaking legs and pushed away from the dinky dining room table. A quiet thank you was muttered under the blonde witch’s breath and Hermione didn’t hear or see any sign of the woman for the rest of the night. She wouldn’t see her until the following day. If Hermione was being honest, she didn’t know if she was worried or relieved. 


	2. You have a thing for Blacks, it seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa meets a friendly face and Hermione introduces us to another. Some words are said, some good some bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda unedited. Sorta. Sorry in advance for any incoherent and late night writing mistakes. Please enjoy regardless <3

It had been awhile since Narcissa had felt old. The first night in the Granger’s family shack in the woods was not helping her to feel particularly young. 

It had been even longer since Narcissa had slept in the clothes she had worn all day. The alternative would have been muggle sleepwear known as “onesies” or some other ridiculously named article of clothing that based on name alone sounded overall unappealing. Druella will have been rolling in her grave. Or her frame, if Bella hadn’t destroyed every one of the portraits of their mother possible. 

Memories flooded the witch to the brim, ones of Bella raging on and on about how barbaric it is that she’d have to burn the mansion down before she could burn a few portraits. All the while Druella laughed and laughed her sinister cackle that sounded just like her eldest daughter’s from her frame. 

_Bella._

_No_. Narcissa refused to let her mind wander to her deranged, lunatic of a sister. Her wicked smart, proud, loving sister. She sat up and rose from the fairly comfortable, yet small, bed and walked into the kitchen, wiping away any and all proof of tears forming at the corner of her eyes. 

It was a small kitchen with nothing but the bare muggle essentials and too much furniture for the space. Miss Granger had explained all of the muggle contraptions last night but Narcissa still felt as if she were staring at foriegn languages she’d never even heard of. Did muggles study Mermish?

“Would you like some coffee or maybe tea?” A voice came from behind Narcissa as she inspected a stovetop and startled her. She knew it was the Granger girl but that didn’t mean she wasn't scared out of her gourd. What’s more, the Granger girl seemed to notice how tired the older witch appeared to be as she said, “Coffee it is then.” 

“Miss Granger, please avoid any further lurking during my stay,” Narcissa sniffed arrogantly and put her nose in the air, looking down it like she had been taught before continuing. “If you are to make it a habit I should think I’d like to leave.”

Granger just let out a sharp laugh and shook her head. “May I speak freely?” She asked as she began fiddling with a stationary machine that, as the girl had explained, drank water and spat out coffee into the oversized cup that looked like a grindylow bowl. 

“Do I truly have a say in the matter?” Narcissa asked, leaning against the little inconveniently placed breakfast bar’s worktop and quirking an eyebrow. 

“No,” Granger replied with no real malice in her voice, careful and practiced disinterest laced the singular syllable. It may fool a Gryffindor but not a Slytherin. Granger turned away from the machine to face the other witch and leaned on the worktop across from Narcissa, crossing her arms in a way that accentuated the toned biceps the girl had gotten over her time on the run most likely. Though she looked far less sophisticated in her t-shirt and shorts than Narcissa, she held herself… differently from the nervous girl from last night. “However, if I may, it is so very Malfoy of you to demand behaviors from someone who actually owns where you currently are staying.” 

Narcissa let out another little arrogant sniff. “Miss Granger, I beg to differ-” 

“Then beg,” Granger interrupted with a smirk. She waltzed over to a cupboard and grabbed two cups. 

_Self assured._ Narcissa thought that was what it was. When she last saw the girl, she had been beaten and bled to an ounce of life. War had aged her so much over the past few years, but it had also matured her. Two very different, very obvious things. While one may be forty-two one may have the maturity of a two year old, another person could be in their teens and have the maturity of a thirty year old. _No_ , Narcissa was not thinking passive aggressively about her late husband. Anyway, there were shadows on the girl’s face where one could assume she had held many hurts and many smiles. Where there used to be the baby fat of a teen frowning awkwardly in a robe shop there were now pronounced cheek bones and the sharp jawline of a witch who had been forced to stay moving for far too long. Though Narcissa held no particular liking for the girl, she also held very little contempt and knew what it was like to stay in motion for fear of what would come for you when you stopped. Mentally or physically, it wasn’t fun and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even mudbloods who made her life hell for years. Nevertheless, Hermione Granger was a stronger witch for it. 

Though to be fair, Narcissa wasn’t exactly the witch she went into the second war being either. She was colder, harder, and so much smaller than she had been years ago. Having a madman breathing down your neck and telling you how worthless you are despite blood status, your own husband willing to spare you and your son in order to rise the ranks, and your sister and most trusted confidant putting your son in harm’s way takes its toll. Much more of a toll than the first war had taken on her, that was child’s play. The second one had put her family in direct danger. The danger that isn’t protected by blood status or ministry positions. It makes you build walls to hide how truly weak you’ve become. Where the war had built the Granger girl up, it had beaten Narcissa down just as hard. 

“As I was saying, Miss Granger, it would have been very Malfoy of me to stay quiet and kiss your cheap boots during my stay here,” Narcissa actually allowed the corners of her lips to tug up a bit while Granger busied herself with pouring the two cups of coffee, “Being straight forward would be the Black in me, I’m afraid.” 

Granger just smiled into her cup as she took a sip after handing Narcissa her cup. 

“So is poisoning drinks.” 

Granger spat out her rather large sip and Narcissa let herself smile as she took a small sip out of her own drink. 

_No._

Narcissa schooled her features and met the brunette’s eyes in a careful glare. This wasn’t vacation in Bordeaux, this was voluntary imprisonment with a mudblood. And her… cat?

“Miss Granger what is this thing that is assaulting my leg?” Narcissa asked in a very nearly distraught voice, placing her cup down on the bar. Her leg lifted a bit to try and deter the thing but she ended up looking like she was dancing as the creature moved from one foot to the other. 

An orange, huge, flat faced cat was rubbing its face on her wrinkled robes with an abandon and the blonde witch was absolutely not about it. She walked backwards, as the Granger girl just looked on with a stoney face, and tried to avoid the large beast. 

Finally, with a snap of fingers and what sounded quite like the word _traitor_ the orange menace detached itself from the pureblood’s robes, startling Narcissa and sending her toppling backwards, and looked over at its owner. 

“Crookshanks, I hate to say it but your taste has gotten significantly worse,” Granger walked towards the cat and scooped him up, completely ignoring the older witch on the floor that had been scrambling to get up (hopefully) unscathed. “You have a thing for Blacks, it seems. Definitely not a pureblood thing or you would have liked Ronald…” The girl continued talking to the beast until she walked into the sitting room and plopped down on the sofa with it. 

Narcissa finally pulled herself up after detangling her limbs from the myriad of furniture pieces that littered the cluttered kitchen. If Granger had been turned around she would have seen the absolute murder in Narcissa’s eyes as she stared down the beast that had attacked her. 

“So you’ve met Crooks, -here,” Granger started before leaving her cat to rest on the couch. Narcissa did not miss the hesitation where one would put a name in a sentence but rather substituted it for another word. _Good. Let her squirm over formalities. It’s the least I deserve._ “You should have seen your face. Who knew it only took a kneazle-cat to get you to stop talking. I could practically hear you thinking of him as a little beast.” Granger let out a little giggle before walking back to where Narcissa stood looking slightly disgruntled. “You really are his mum.” She muttered with an almost pained looking smile, more an upturn at the corners of her mouth than her actual smile. The one that, objectively of course, could rival the sun in warmth. 

The pureblood grimaced in return and continued to stare down the now snoring animal on the couch. “I assure you, Miss Granger, there is nothing small about your b- familiar.” 

Granger shook her head and said nothing more for a bit. 

The two finished their drinks in silence. It left Narcissa to her thoughts, which was nice in its own right but it also left the air stale and stagnant. Like the day wasn’t truly moving until the two talked, then the day slipped right past them in a little gust of wind. No time left for anything else until there was. Narcissa made a note to write that down at some point. 

“I’m off. Shouldn’t take long,” The brunette said as she made to leave to her room, or the room that was previously hers before she gave it up for Narcissa. “Please don’t wander far. If you feel the need to walk into the woods don’t listen to what the trees say, they say it to everyone and they can be very pleasant once you get to know them. If someone knocks on the door, don't open it, it’s not me. When I get back I will apparate in so don’t, and I mean this, Madam Malfoy,” Granger began to throw off her clothes near the beginning of her instructions but now she was clothed in muggle clothing with casual black and red robes thrown over them, she was fastening them together when she turned to find Narcissa staring at a wall as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. The granger girl smiled a bit but Narcissa didn’t see until the girl walked out of the room and stood directly in front of her. “Do not open the door for anyone.” 

Narcissa just nodded as though she had been given the most important instructions of the century. Granger stood a couple inches shorter than Narcissa yet kept her chin up in a carelessly confident way as it seemed like she was looking for any imperfection at all. The only thing Hermione saw was the way a slight blush rested across the blonde witch’s cheeks and nose as if someone dusted it on with a paintbrush. This lasted a few seconds before-

“Brilliant.” 

That was the last thing Narcissa heard before a loud pop of disapparation and wild curls turning on the spot. The open air where Hermione Granger had stood, so proud as if she were the owner of all ground she walked on, felt irreparably empty in an incredibly quiet way. In a way they were equals for a second. Face to face. Eye to eye, almost. All this was directly against Narcissa’s upbringing. Though, what really truly had her on edge was the feeling of not being brought down to a mudblood’s level but rather the mudblood being brought up to her own. Again, a complete contradiction to what Narcissa knew. What on Merlin’s grand earth had made the Granger girl feel so proud? She was nothing! Dirt beneath Narcissa’s boots. Boots the girl couldn’t even afford to clean. Nothing. _No._

Hermione Granger seemed to be a myriad of things. But nothing had not been one of them. Ever. Whether facing Bellatrix Lestrange or the Dark Lord himself, she was not nothing. Narcissa knew this. Narcissa also knew that she couldn’t allow this. Allow filth to be considered a something to her. 

Merlin, was this tiring. Narcissa was so _fucking_ tired. She made her way to the sofa, the beast nowhere in sight, and placed herself down onto the lumpy cushions she had wrestled with the previous night. She rested her head on one of the pillows and stretched her legs out _just for a little bit. Just a small nap_ , the witch thought before passing out for much longer than what could be considered a small nap. 

~~~

Hermione rested her side against her favorite tree and watched from outside the cottage as Narcissa stared at the spot she had just been. The muggle born half expected the woman to burn the house down or break something Hermione couldn’t replace. The muggle born half wanted the woman to do so. It would make everything _that_ much easier if the woman could do something horrible. Something worth retaliation. Instead Madam Malfoy stood and stared at where Hermione had been as if Hermione was going to reappear if she willed it hard enough. It would probably have helped if the woman had a damn wand. Something Hermione was supposed to be retrieving but wasn’t, and for what? To watch the blonde do nothing but stand and stare?

After what seemed like an absolute eternity the woman moved, Hermione had almost left. Malfoy’s face held a lot when she thought no one was around to see. While her eyes were relaxed they also looked as though she were trying to solve the world’s hardest puzzle as she made her way to the sofa. Based on the previous night, Hermione waited for her father’s favorite spot in the whole world to catch on fire in a bout of accidental magic. Of course, that would be too improper for a Black by blood and Malfoy by choice. If what Sirius had gone through was anything to go by, the woman would have been bottling up much more than magic in her households. 

When the woman’s head hit Hermione’s pillow it took everything in the brunette to not storm in and have bats coming from the woman’s nose for hours. Hermione had held back, though. It was as good a time as any to be the adult she was. Blue eyes fluttered shut and stayed shut for seconds that filled up like hours. 

“Bloody purebloods,” Hermione muttered. 

“Oh please, I assure you her bloodline is less than pure. Selective breeding can be a pretty name but in the end we all know she’s got blood dirtier than the looks you’re throwing her way,” The tree Hermione had been leaning on said in a high pitched, motherly voice not unlike one Molly Weasley’s. 

“Well, Azmodia, what am I going to do?” Hermione Granger asked, turning so her forehead was resting against familiar bark. 

“What you’re meant to do.” At Hermione’s groan the tree continued in a slightly more irritated voice. “That does not mean what you are told to do, nor is it what you want to do. All will make sense, my little mango seed. You must realize that in order to do what you’re meant to, you’ve got to stop asking trees old enough to know your many-greats grandfather and look ahead. You’ll know what is right, what is wrong, and what you’re _meant to do._ ” 

“Thank you, Az,” And though Hermione had no bloody clue what they had meant by what she was meant to do, she looked ahead and saw a blonde pureblood witch resting peacefully on her sofa. She knew what she was meant to do. 

Hermione turned on the spot and left to do it with another pop that she knew would irritate Azmodia to no end. 

~~~

A loud pop startled Narcissa awake and she scrambled for a wand that she realized wasn’t there. 

Incoherent threats to whomever dared step foot into the Granger residence while Miss Granger herself was not there were spoken as she struggled to rub the sleep from her eyes. 

“As fun as that was to watch, I am unfortunately not a burglar, nor am I particularly afraid of you, Madam Malfoy,” Granger said as she knelt down and sat indian style in front of the sofa. 

“While I’m glad you were not lurking, I am also infinitely irritated by your existence at the moment,” Narcissa said as she flopped back on the sofa, almost succumbing to the idea of chasing more near-impossible-to-catch sleep again. Before promptly lifting herself back up to face the Granger girl. Who happened to be grinning like she had been given candy at the sight of Narcissa acting less prim and proper than usual. Merlin forbid. 

“I brought you some robes, Madam Malfoy,” Granger brought up her bag that she had shrunk down to fit in the inner pockets of her robes that she promptly threw off. They landed with an anticlimactic little noise on the sitting room table. Once the bag was back to normal size, Granger started pulling out quite a bit of things but a few things in particular caught Narcissa’s eye. 

A wand box from Ollivander’s. Then another. There was no way. Not a bloody way in Morgana’s left tit that the Granger girl had gotten her a wand. Impossible. Improbable. Ludicrous. The very thought was almost enough to make the witch laugh. It was so cruel it was almost funny. 

“The robes on the left are all for you, clearly. I swear they could smell the muggle born on me when I walked in there. Oh also a wand,” Hermione fucking Granger said with a shit eating grin. “Ollivander said there was a wand he had made quite a while ago when one Narcissa Black was supposed to get her wand in preparation for Hogwarts. Though it seemed as though you already had one at the time, your father’s I believe?” 

“Yes,” Was all Narcissa could croak out. It was then, as she avoided amber eyes, that she noticed it was dark outside. Moonlight streamed in through curtains that looked old enough to house doxies older than her. There had to be a motive. A reason. A sign. Everyone had a tell but how can you find a tell for someone who isn’t lying? This good-deed-Granger act had Narcissa on edge, she’d be going gray soon if this kept up. “What do you want from me, Miss Granger?” 

“Patience, Madam Malfoy.” 

Narcissa let a few tears fall from her eyes silently. It’s not like she could have stopped them. The room waited for sound but none came. Even the crickets outside seemed to halt their songs for the pair to continue with their discussion. Was it even a discussion? 

“If you walk away before we get to say good night again I will return the robes,” Granger said quietly as she leaned forward and wiped away a tear, going to rest her hand on a pale and cold cheek. When Narcissa flinched the younger witch pulled away slowly. There wasn’t a soul that came from the war unscathed. The perfect Narcissa Malfoy was not an exception. 

“Miss Granger you needn’t pity me,” Narcissa said with the cool tone of a viper warning subtly of an upcoming strike. 

“Oh, Madam Malfoy, don’t you get it?” Granger said in a deadly voice. Low and truly scary, once again reminding the blonde witch that the girl in front of her was the same one who had survived the war in a way not many others had to. She took down some of the deadliest warriors the Dark Lord had to offer with a beautiful smile to show for it. “I fucking hate you. I can’t stand you. You think I pity you?” Granger still sat incredibly close to Narcissa, so close she could hear the shuddering voice of a witch about to sob yet she still continued to say words that cut deeper and deeper every second. A hand reached up to brush another tear off of Narcissa’s cheek but this time she did not flinch. This time she met the arrogant Gryffindor’s eyes with an icy look made to kill. This also meant that Granger did not pull away this time. “You disgust me, Narcissa Malfoy. You hurt me with every cough with every look. The fact that you live while your sister rots makes me _sick_. You watched!” 

At the shout Narcissa’s eyes widened but she did not shy away. Never again. Not to a filthy mudblood. Not from a child throwing a fit. The hand on her cheek seemed so out of place compared to the atmosphere, the pure anger that crackled in the air. Yet Granger’s hand remained gentle. Remained soft and contained. All the more reason to watch out for the brilliant mind in front of her, Granger was bloody dangerous. 

“You’re just as bad. And you have to live with it. Madam Malfoy, I despise you, yet I took this bloody job. To make sure _you_ stayed out of Azkaban while your husband is busy withering in there more and more by the day,” The harsh words kept coming from such a pretty mouth. 

“Stop,” Narcissa croaked but Granger kept going. 

“You watched and did nothing. Always nothing with you,” Granger smiled as she delivered her final blow. “You’re a coward, Madam Malfoy.” 

The sound of the smack echoed off of the walls. Granger must have known it was coming but she didn’t move or flinch. Just took it. 

“Narc-” Granger began. 

“No,” Narcissa began to cut her off in a deadly whisper. “You want to know what’s cowardly?” And when the ice queen began, “Running around the countryside while people died for you,” there was no stopping her until she was done. “Projecting your guilt on those who did what any mother would do in war times. What you are is a spoiled and cowardly child. You think I don’t recognize wealth when I see it?” Narcissa scoffed and the color that had risen to Granger’s cheek from impact quickly drained. “Your parents may have been muggles but they were not poor. You think that because you got called a few names in the school yard means you’re not well off? An unlucky little sheep thrown to the snakes?” The blonde witch’s voice had risen to an almost shrill pitch before being brought back down. Eyes narrowed in on Granger before she dealt her own finishing blow. “You are nothing but a cowardly little mudblood.” 

The silence that blanketed the room was wild with static. 

Energy cracked and popped as metaphorical hackles were raised on both witches in close proximity to one another. No more slaps came but the two were clearly on edge. Narcissa, now literally on the edge of her seat, perched so far forward it almost looked as if she would topple off if a strong enough breeze came through a close enough window. Hermione now had a hand on either side of where the other witch sat and was propped up on her knees, looking very much like a cat ready to pounce. A soft smile grew on Granger’s once straight and pursed lips. 

“Well, I’m glad we got all that out of the way,” Granger started as she propelled herself up to stand. “I think it’s about time for bed, don’t you?” 

Narcissa followed suit and stood taller than Granger once again. “Yes, Miss Granger, I think you’re quite right.” 

With that, the older witch left the sitting room to the bedroom with a pair of sleep robes, the wand long forgotten, and softly shut the door that would not open until the following day. 

~~~

Crookshanks let out a small noise of anger later that night as he sat on Hermione’s chest. 

“Oh don’t you start too.” 

Another meow was heard. 

“I know, I know. I deserved it. Still, did she have to hit me so hard?” 

Another meow. 

“Well, glad to see you’re on my side, traitor.” 

  
  
  
  


~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for making it all the way down here, if you leave a comment I'll give you a ... cookie? yeah. a cookie. if you don't I won't love you any less. The fact that you read this is enough <3


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